


Closing Hour

by melianthegreat



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melianthegreat/pseuds/melianthegreat
Summary: Another quiet moment between Richard and James





	Closing Hour

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this story is called 'Elephants' by Crowded House, one of Neil Finn's most poetic lyrics. It's a quiet song, best enjoyed very late at night, like the setting of the story.

It was a very late night. When they were filming on location they could go until it became too dark to see, or they became exhausted, which could be pretty late, or at least until they drank all the allotted beer for the night. When they were in London, James and Richard found late nights got that way earlier, especially the older they got.

There had been a function that they'd attended, something for Amazon to promote _The Grand Tour_. Jeremy had attended but left early, with the excuse of having to do voiceovers in the morning. Andy Wilman also left early, his wife having a cold. James and Richard had to stay and press the flesh with people. It was somewhat easy for Richard, who had PR experience, though he found it sort of boring. But he could take one look into his husband's eyes and could see James was beginning to crack under the pressure. James was friendly and the one who came off the most normal of the lot, the one most likely to be in the pub for pints and darts, but he was also the one who could be drained by the experience the fastest. James was touch-averse, especially with those he didn't know well, and he only tolerated obvious stupidity in small doses. So gladhanding a bunch of strangers could get to him easily, and it was. Richard gradually made his way over.

"How are you doing, mate?" He whispered to James.

"Tired," James whispered back. "Bored, irritated, wanting a way to escape."

Richard smirked. "What? You don't want to do this all night?" He asked sarcastically. "What kind of a Social Butterfly are you?"

James glared at him. "Hammond, never use the word 'butterfly' around me again unless you're referring to the pretty insect-like thing that flies among flowers. I'm heading to the loo. In the meantime, find a way to get us out of here before I lose my mind. Please." The look on James' face was so pleading it was impossible for Richard to say no if he'd wanted to refuse.

When they exited, it was so late there was almost no night sounds. That was a bit odd in a big city; even without crickets or birds announcing the very early morning, there was at least a stray vehicle or at least a cat or dog. But there was so little noise Richard could hear the buzz of the streetlights and shop windows. Everything else was asleep. And apparently James was close. They had both been drinking at this event, and had anticipated needing a ride home, so they used a rideshare service. Even so, the promptness of the rideshare was competing with the combination of alcohol, silence, and a warm, humid night.

The car pulled up, the driver verified it was indeed Richard and James he was picking up, and headed for Hammersmith. In the back seat, James leaned against Richard and shut his eyes. "Now this is a switch," Richard whispered to him. "Me, more sober than you, trying to get us home. We'll be there soon." He kissed the side of James' face.

"Can I just sleep here?" James murmured. "Feels good."

Richard grinned affectionately. "You drunk old man," he replied softly, no sting in his voice. "You'll get kinks in your neck and back and you'll feel it all day long."

They fell into silence for a moment. James continued to lean on Richard, his eyes closed. "Sing to me, Rich," James sighed.

Richard nearly laughed loudly. "Christ on a bike, James, how drunk are you?" Richard had a passable voice, he could at least carry a tune in a bucket, but was certainly not a singer in the traditional sense. Among his talents and skills, he'd put his singing down in the same category as his cooking: he could do it, but it was best avoided. James had to be very drunk _indeed_ to invite Richard to do it.

"Please, Rich?" James murmured next to him. "I just want to hear your voice. At least I'm not asking for sex." Richard couldn't resist a mock shudder and a sound to indicate he was horrified at the images in his head. "Please?" James asked again.

For a moment Richard was at a loss. The songs he knew well weren't right to appease a very drunk James May, and certainly not in the middle of the night. And he certainly didn't want to embarrass himself in front of a total stranger driving them home. Finally he thought of one, a tune that was right for the moment, the quiet of the night. Something to sing very softly, because to sing it loudly would be wrong. Something he could sing to this man he loved without embarrassing himself to the driver:

 _It's the closing hour, I don't want to go,_  
 _But I could stay afloat in your eyes._  
 _I've seen the rocks where everyone gets lost._  
 _I won't stray across the white line._  
 _Let's admit the world don't turn around us,_   
_It's acting like we don't exist,_  
 _A drunk sleeping in the corner._  
 _Sweet dreams, make waves, find bliss._

James sighed with contentment.

"This happens a lot," the driver said softly to Richard as they drove along. "This time of night, someone tends to sing a kind of lullaby to whomever they're with."

"Do they usually fall asleep and drool on the other person's shirt?" Richard asked wryly.

The rideshare driver nodded with a grin. "It beats them throwing up in the back seat." There was a pause. "I get to hear lots of singing back there," the driver said. "The songs are different, but at this time of night one thing's in common, there's a lot of love in the voices." Richard smiled and leaned back against James. There was no explanation necessary. He loved the pedantic old man sleeping beside him. It had been years now since they'd made it legal, years before that when they simply lived together, years before that when they simply lived their lives, never recognizing how lonely they'd been in reality. Now they were determined to grow old together along with Jeremy and Andy, two old mates who cared and nurtured, sometimes knocking heads together when needed. But most of that had been in younger days, before they'd settled. James and Richard had earned their existence, and Richard knew that even as an old man he'd love this man for the rest of his life. And the old man loved him enough to sleep against him in the back of a car very late at night. But then again, Richard was drunk enough to contemplate his feelings in the back of the same car very late at night.

Before long the car was pulling up to their house, and Richard had roused James enough to make it inside under his own power as Richard settled affairs with the driver, who he generously tipped. 

When he entered the house, he found James had turned on the stereo. One of the radio stations was playing the same song Richard softly sang to him in the car. James was standing in the middle of the room, now awake, his eyes large and gentle. "Would you do something for me?" James asked Richard gently.

"What is it?" Richard asked, giving a smile.

James shrugged. "Would you sing more of the song you sang to me earlier?" In that moment he looked vulnerable, or at least as vulnerable as James could look, and Richard realized the night had gotten to him. All that enforced touching and smiles and working the room had taken its toll. Now he needed the quiet and a warm, friendly presence. It was something Richard had noticed early on in his working relationship with him, that James sometimes needed to decompress after a studio taping, that the presence of all those people and their energy could throw him off. During that time Richard or Jeremy might come over and have a couple of drinks, maybe play a game of Monopoly, and just have James unwind from the day. 

Richard approached, and when he was next to James he opened his arms and looked at him sympathetically. "Come here, you daft, old man." They stood in the middle of the room together, their arms around each other, rocking back forth to the soft rhythm, their own version of dancing. Every now and then James would pull Richard a little closer and Richard would relax against him, feeling and giving safety and security, trying to give comfort and affection that they wanted and needed.

_You don't have to say a word,_   
_You don't want to say a word,_   
_I hear what you're thinking._   
_You don't have to say a word,_   
_You don't have to say a word,_   
_I know what you're thinking._

Richard cupped James' face in his hands, then pulled him into a kiss, something reassuring and tender. He pulled away, holding his husband's hand, with the silent invitation in his dark eyes to come upstairs. James followed him.

A short while later, after a shower and dressed for bed, with lights out and his love next to him in his arms, Richard stroked James' hair and reflected on what the rideshare driver said. He'd said the songs were all different, but the common thread in all of them had been the voices of the singers were full of love. Drivers of taxis and limos and Ubers and Lyfts late at night seemed to develop the wisdom of elephants in their work. Sometimes that could mean reading the hearts and souls of others in record time. Richard didn't know this driver from Adam's Housecat, and in just a minute read the love Richard had for James. 

The last thought Richard had, drifting off to sleep, was part of the song:

 _The elephants come down to the water hole at dusk,_  
 _They feel the same as us about life._  
 _We all take a drink, the sun begins to sink._  
 _The alligator waits for his time._  
 _Let's admit the world don't turn around us,_  
 _It's acting like we don't exist,_  
 _A drunk that's sleeping in the corner._  
 _Sweet dreams, make waves,_   
_Find bliss._

In the arms of the ones they loved, both men found their bliss.


End file.
